Squares of Toilet Paper
by Monica Ronovitch
Summary: The diary of Evey Hammond's mother Jennifer written on squares of toilet paper and displayed at the Amahirst Interrogation Site. It details her life before and during her experiences at the facility. Please read and review! Entry Two is up!
1. Entry One

**Squares of Toilet Paper**

**Disclaimer: _I do not own or claim to own any part of V for Vandetta. Jennifer Hammond is based upon the mother of Evey Hammond in both the comics and the movie._**

_To the reader: _

_This document was recovered from the Amahirst interrogation center during a renovation of the facility to make it a historical tourist site, much like the concentration camps from over one hundred years ago that were controlled by Nazi Germany have been. Historians from the British Restoration society believe that this was written fifteen years before death of Chancellor Sutler of Great Britain, and copies are available in the Amahirst gift shop for purchase. Please keep in mind that events described in this diary _did_ occur and that this diary is regarded as a prime example of first-hand accounts of the experiences of political prisoners under Chancellor Sutler. _

**Entry One**

I don't know what day it is. I can't say how long I've been in here, for I don't know. But I can tell you about me. And all I ask is for you to read my words, and to keep reading them until there are no more. I don't know who you are, and I don't know what the world is like now as you read this. Perhaps you're in the same situation as me, another prisoner with a shaved head clinging onto life in Amahirst prison. Or maybe you're a government official reading this when you should be incinerating it as you prepare the building for public visitation. It doesn't really matter who you are, or how and why you've come across what I have written on little toilet paper squares. Just that you read, and that you don't stop.

My name is Jennifer Hammond, and I am a prisoner in Amahirst, a prison where the government locks people up on accusations of terrorism, murder, and sedition. I'm bothering to write this all down because last night, a man in the cell next to me whispered that they're going to close Amahirst, and kill the rest of us. I want to be remembered- I don't even know if my little girl can remember my face.

I grew up in Oxford, England, before the coup that gave Sutler his position as Chancellor. My mother and father were kind parents that didn't spoil me or try to control my life. My childhood was a happy one, blessed with friends and more friends that always played with me. I was best friends with my older brothers Jonathan and Tomas.

We even had a yard- if you could call an eighth of an acre a yard- surrounded by a white picket fence, and a huge oak tree hung over our house and shaded the patches of grass we had. Mother and Father used to—

_(Note to the reader: Here the toilet paper square was torn and stained, so that only the author knows what was written. Regretfully, even our sophisticated technology cannot restore the document to its original purpose. )_


	2. Entry Two

**Disclaimer: _I do not own V for Vandetta or take any responsibility for the comics or movie, but Jennifer Hammond is my own original character. _**

_A note to the reader: _

_We believe that this is the second entry of Jennifer Hammond's diary, and have labeled it as such. Unfortunately, there may or may not be missing entries between this one and the previous entry, and it is regretfully that we at the British Restoration Society must say that we will most likely never know. _

**Entry Two**

I'm not sure how much more time I have until Amahirst closes, but I almost hope that it's soon. Now that we know we're going to die, we've mostly given up, and I know that more than a few of us have chosen to die on their own rather than at the hands of the interrogators. The woman in the cell across the hall from me died of starvation—she refused the little food that was granted to her. I heard the interrogators arguing with the guards when she was dragged from her cell.

I can only pray that my death will be swift and brief, but I doubt that the interrogators will grant us that luxury. There are rumors floating around that we might just be kept in our cells after the facility closes so that the government won't have to deal with disposing of our bodies. I don't want to die of starvation, and if I have the choice, I don't want to die. I want to see Evey once more, and I want to tell her that I love her.

I'll never forget the sight of her terrified face hiding under the bed as they pulled the black bag over my head…

Enough of this. I'm just depressing myself, writing about where I am now. Perhaps… Maybe one day I'll be back in my home, with my family, but for now, I will tell you a little bit more about myself.

When I turned ten, my brother Jonathan disappeared. Mother didn't know where he had gone, and my father was furious. I was heartbroken. My oldest brother, my hero, my role model was gone. Tomas did his best to comfort me, to make me forget about him, but I know now that he was trying to comfort himself as much as me.

I would climb our oak tree and look out over the city as I cried and waited for Jonathan to come home. My mother eventually died after a stroke that crippled her, leaving only Tomas and my Father to raise me. Father worked in with the M16, and after Mother died, he wasn't really home. He made enough money to pay taxes, feed us, and to buy us new clothes and presents, but Father was never really there.

It was the day I turned fifteen when I learned that Tomas had been killed by the radical group that would one day make Sutler the Supreme Chancellor of Great Britain, and my life was never again ever the same.


End file.
